


Scars

by ApostateRevolutionary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, FWP, Fluff, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/ApostateRevolutionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke and Anders spend some time getting to know each other better after their first night together, telling stories from before they met, both happy and sad. Comparing scars from misadventures turns out to be an excellent way to find out more about a person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

Hawke awoke to the feeling of warmth, and gentle fingers tracing along her body. She let out a small noise, not quite ready to join the world of the conscious, and burrowed in towards the source of the heat. The fingers paused, briefly, and she felt lips brush against her forehead with a tender kiss.

“Morning, love.” Anders’ voice whispered to her

Slowly, the rogue opened her eyes, finding her dear apostate looking back at her. Anders looked different in the morning light, his lips forming a small smile. His hair was unbound, and there was a softness in his face Hawke was unaccustomed to seeing. He looked _relaxed_ , perhaps for the first time since she’d met him. She couldn’t help but return his smile.

“You’re still here. I guess last night wasn’t a dream after all.” Hawke said, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind his ear, her voice still heavy from sleep.

Anders chuckled at that. “Funny you should say that. I thought the same thing earlier.”

Hawke couldn’t help but laugh a bit herself, before leaning in to give him a light kiss. Oh Maker, it felt so good to just be able to do that. After so long of him pushing her away, it was nice just to be able to touch him freely. His fingers were still trailing along her skin, travelling down her back and then up over her side to her stomach. His touch lingered on every one of her scars, carefully tracing each one before moving on. The sensation was different there; blunted, somehow, but it was still pleasant. The mage followed the contours of a large one that arced from her side to her stomach, his brow furrowing slightly.

“That’s from when we fought the ogre on the way out of Lothering, when Carver…” Hawke trailed off, quickly deciding that she’d rather not ruin the moment with talk of unpleasant things.

Anders expression shifted, and there was a profound sadness in his eyes that made her regret bringing it up. “You don’t talk about your brother much. Tell me about him.”

The rogue thought for a moment, surprised by his question. It was true that she hadn’t talked about Carver much with anyone aside from her family and Aveline, who had been there, and those conversations had mostly been about how tragic it was. It might be nice to talk about him as he was, rather than focus on the fact that he wasn’t here anymore.

Hawke let out a small hum as she thought of what to say. “You wouldn’t have liked him. He was always so proud, so brash. More than anything he wanted to prove himself.”

The rogue felt her mouth form a sad smile as Anders listened attentively. “I remember once, when he was just a boy, he’d gotten himself into trouble with some of the other kids in Lothering. He was already bloody and bruised by the time I got there, but he refused to just stay down. He kept getting up, no matter how many times they knocked him on the ground. After I’d scared them off, he was so angry that I’d gotten involved. He always said he hated living in my shadow, that he wanted to make a name for himself for once…”

She stopped then, looking away and leaving the ‘it’s too bad he didn’t get the chance’ unsaid.

“I’m sorry I never got to meet him,” Anders said, “even if you say I wouldn’t have liked him.”

Hawke chuckled slightly. “That was putting it mildly. And the feeling would’ve been entirely mutual, trust me.

She looked back up at the mage again, reaching out her own hand to run her fingers along his shoulder. She found a scar there as well, and copied his movements, tracing it gently. It was mostly straight, with a slight curve. A scratch of some type, rather than a cut or a stab.

“Pretty sure that’s from one of my escape attempts.” The apostate said, as if on cue.

“One of? How many were there?” Hawke asked, curious.

Anders didn’t talk much about his time in the Circle, before the Wardens, and she wanted whatever insight into him she could get. He was the strangest combination of forthright and evasive. He tended to say whatever was on his mind, sometimes at the risk of being considered rude. Yet there were so many things he conveniently avoided talking about, changing the subject when asked, or making it less personal than she knew it was. It was refreshing to see him less guarded than usual.

He had to think for a moment. “I believe I made it out of the tower seven times… Though there were far more where I didn’t even get that far.”

“Seven?!” Hawke blurted out, “How in Andraste’s name did you manage that?”

Anders laughed at that, a rare, true laugh that rang like music in her ears. “Well, it wasn’t exactly easy, but I was stubborn. And considering I did actually succeed, I’d say it was worth the effort.”

He started to smirk as he continued, “That escape was spent shivering in the woods. Life in the Circle doesn’t exactly prepare you for wilderness survival. I heard the Templars coming before they found me, and the only thing I could think to do was climb a nearby tree. So there I am, hanging from this branch, when four Templars enter the clearing I’d slept in that night. I could see they had my phylactery, so they knew I was nearby, but I thought if I could just hang on long enough, they’d move on and I could slip away.”

Hawke couldn’t help but smile. There was a rare liveliness in Anders’ voice as he recounted the tale. Not the passion he had when he talked about mages, but something else. He sounded lighter, younger, even. The freedom he must have felt on each escape carried through his words. It delighted her to hear him sound like that.

“What happened then?” Hawke asked, leaning forward a bit to show her eagerness.

“Well, they were just about to move on when I… fell.” Anders said, looking a bit embarrassed. “Landed right on top of one of them, and one of the points of his armour scratched my shoulder. They didn’t give me a chance to heal it before they put the shackles on me, so it scarred despite being pretty minor. The one I landed on broke a few ribs though, so at least I got some satisfaction from hearing him groan and wheeze the entire trip back.”

Without another word, he started moving his hand again, searching for a new scar on her body. They made a game of it, almost, taking turns choosing a mark, and then telling the story behind it. Though a lot of those stories were just ‘Darkspawn’ or ‘thugs’, many others were intriguing for both of them. Hawke was absolutely fascinated by Anders, and it wasn’t until now that she realized she didn’t actually know that much about him. They’d known each other for years, been friends, would have been lovers sooner had he not kept pushing her away, and yet they’d never really had a chance to just get to know one another. Precious little of their time spent together had been one-on-one, and even then it had usually been spent talking about far more serious matters. The change was definitely a welcome one.

As Hawke traced along his body, moving along the expanse of pale skin to find a new scar, she always found her eyes flicking to the large one in the centre of his chest. She’d seen it before, some time ago, the first time she’d seen him shirtless. That had been an accident, of course, though not exactly an unfortunate one, as far as she’d been concerned. She’d dropped by his clinic to give him some leftovers from dinner to find him changing into his night clothes a bit earlier than usual. His lower half was already clothed, but his top was uncovered.

The first thing she’d noticed was just how thin he was beneath his feathered coat. A mental note had been made to bring him more food next time, and to do so far more often. The second thing had been the large scar on his back, and the matching one on his chest when he’d turned around in surprise. He’d covered up immediately after, blushing, but that scar was still something she’d wondered about. She’d seen it again, last night, but there had been far more important things happening then.

But she had a feeling that one did not have a pleasant story behind it, so she moved on, finding one on his thigh instead, prompting a lighthearted tale about a drinking contest with a dwarf from his Warden days.

After some time, they were both beginning to run out of scars. She’d told him about Ostagar, the time she’d fought off collectors for Gamlen who’d threatened Bethany in the process, and when she’d been hurt by a pack of wolves and had to be rescued by her Mabari. In response, Anders had talked about having to fight possessed trees in the Wending Wood when he was with the Wardens, another one of his escape attempts that involved him rescuing a kitten from some lowlifes before the Templars found him again, and a patient delirious from fever that had attacked him before Anders could heal him, though he’d still helped the man after the scuffle was over.

Hawke found her fingers travelling up his stomach, smiling slightly as she watched his muscles twitch under her touch, towards his chest. She couldn’t help herself. As she approached the scar on his chest, she felt him stiffen. Stopping her movements and looking up, she saw a strange expression on Anders’ face.

“It’s alright. You can touch it.” he said, though there was a kind of pain in his voice.

Slowly, and ever so gently, she ran her fingertips along the length of the scar. It was deep; she could tell that just from the feel. It was almost perfectly straight too, as if a sword had been stabbed right through him. A wound like that should have been fatal, yet the man lying next to her seemed to prove that wrong.

“That’s from… when I first merged with Justice.” Anders explained, seeming to choose his words carefully. “A man named Rolan. He was a Templar who joined the Wardens, and I knew from the start that he was sent to watch me. The Templars had fought so hard to get me back, but the Warden-Commander… She refused. Every single time. They eventually stopped asking, and I thought they’d given up until he arrived. And once the Warden-Commander moved on to whatever she’s up to now, he was sent with me on every mission.”

The healer was scowling now, and Hawke pulled her hand away from his chest to stroke his hair, calming him slightly. “I can’t imagine this is easy for you. You don’t have to tell me. You know that, right?”

Anders leaned into her touch as her palm reached his cheek. “I know. I’ve… never talked about this with anyone. I want to tell you.”

The rogue gave him an encouraging smile, and he continued the story. “After Justice and I made our deal, he was there. He’d betrayed me, brought Templars and I… I killed them. Every last one. I don’t remember much because Justice was in control, but I know Rolan struck at me before I took him down. He ran me through, buried his sword in my chest right to the hilt, and yet I don’t even remember feeling any pain from it. When I regained control, it was mostly healed. That wound should have killed me, yet it didn’t. Realizing that, and seeing the carnage before me… That’s when I knew there was no place for me with the Wardens anymore. Thinking back to that, I’m still not sure there’s truly a place for me anywhere…”

“There is a place for you, Anders,” Hawke said when he trailed off, noting that he was no longer able to meet her gaze, “and it’s right here, with me.”

The mage looked up at her then, and she pulled him closer to her until they were nearly flush.

“Are you certain? Given all I’ve just told you–” Anders began before Hawke silenced him with a kiss.

Breaking apart, she saw he was looking at her with wide eyes. “Yes. I’ve never been more certain of anything. I love you, Anders, and nothing you say or do will ever change that.”

He continued to stare at her, almost as if he was awestruck by her words, before a hesitant smile formed. “You love me far more than I deserve, then.”

It took every ounce of willpower in Hawke’s body not to flick him straight on the nose for that comment, but she did manage to resist the urge. Instead she took his face in both hands and kissed him again, lingering a little longer this time.

“You most certainly do deserve it. And I guess I’m just going to have to keep kissing you until you believe it.” Hawke said, only pulling away enough to speak, her breath undoubtedly ghosting on his lips.

That earned her a grin.

“Well, I can’t exactly complain about that method of choice.” Anders said, moving to close the distance between their lips once more, and she drank him in, allowing herself to cherish the moment and all it had meant, for both of them.


End file.
